


Indirect Negotiation

by motherconfessor



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Exhibitionism, F/F, Illegal Activities, Oral Sex, Public Sex, Wordcount: 1.000-5.000
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-11
Updated: 2020-12-11
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:42:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28007145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/motherconfessor/pseuds/motherconfessor
Summary: But when you had completed your duties, your only job was to ensure the Lady’s glass had wine in it, and should she summon you, you were nearby.
Relationships: The Lady/You
Comments: 21
Kudos: 40





	Indirect Negotiation

**Author's Note:**

> Exhibitionism in my fic? It's more likely than you think!
> 
> Anyway, thank you to _the Dungarees Brigade_ for this fic idea––keep being feral.

In an exclusive casino, filled with assassins-for-hire, your job was loosely dictated as an assistant––but realistically an all-rounder. You ensured the accounting books were provided to the accountant, that orders were placed in for food and alcohol, that tables were kept clean and that if there was a fight, Lito was nearby.

But when you had completed your duties, your only job was to ensure the Lady’s glass had wine in it, and should she summon you, you were nearby.

You were wiping down a table––a quick job, given that only vodka had spilt––when you felt her eyes sweep over your body. Likely because you were bent over and the pants you wore prominently shaped your ass.

She was across the other side of the room, sitting in her booth with a glass of shiraz, working through her books and spot-checking the accounts to look for discrepancies. A pile of books sat two feet high beside her on the edge of the seat. Throughout the evening you’d watched as she’d taken a logbook from one side, ran through it methodically, before setting down on the other side.

But now…she was bored.

“Darling,” she summoned. It was enough to send a thrill down your spine. You pulled off your apron, cleaning your hands on it before discarding it to the table. You walked over, watching as she picked up her glass and moved it to the other side of the table.

The casino was busy today. There was laughter, the sound of dice rolling and wheels spinning, and a fight growing in the dim corners that you knew would be sorted out by Lito before it became a bloodbath.

You stood before her, watching as she played with the stem of the wine glass, her eyes flicking to your face, drawing down low, over your body, until they flicked up again. She smiled as she tilted her head. “I have a terrible headache,” she advised with a sharp look on her face. “And I thought you might have just the thing for it.” She tilted her head to the other way, punctuating the command heavy in the subtext of the words.

You knew better than to ask _here? Now?_ Long ago, your shyness had slipped away. It didn’t stop the thrill.

A coyness drew inside of you, a game between you both as you tilted your head and bit your lip, checking over your shoulder to see who was noticing.

No one yet, but someone would.

The Lady’s table was clean, _spotless_. There was no gum underneath it, no dirt caked in the corners, or blood splattered on the edges. You sink to your knees, slipping underneath the table and watch as her legs spread before you.

Running your hands up her trousers, you watched as her body shifted forward in the seat. Your hands brushed over her thighs, sliding up until you reached her hips, watching as with the ease of deft fingers, she popped her suit jacket undone as she leant back in the booth.

You leant forward, face nuzzling against thigh as you peered out from underneath the table and watched as she returned to her work of running through the accounting books, sipping at her glass of wine and otherwise feigning disinterest as if you were not even there.

Your mouth pressed over the seam of the trousers, the soft, silk-cotton blend absorbing the wetness of your tongue as you slid up purposefully. She remained still, but her fingers flicked through pages, pen scribbling in her notebook.

Your fingers worked at the buttons of her pants, flicking them undone before you slid the zipper down, and then watched as her hips lifted, allowing you delightful access to her cunt as you bent forward to taste her.

The Lady sighed, and although you could interpret it as her flicking through another page, writing her notes and checking her calculations, you knew that the sigh was summoned from you, by your mouth drawing over slick folds.

To anyone else, having their trousers pulled down their thighs should have left them vulnerable as their hips teetered over the edge of the seat, legs spread wide for you to slip between––for the Lady, there was no such edge of vulnerability. She could be completely bare on the table, legs spread for anyone to see, and you would still know that she was in control.

A hand slid down, underneath the table, combing through your hair before she tugged you closer.Urging you to where she wanted––and you would obey. Your eyes peeked up at her, watching as her chest rose and fell, her hand tightening and then easing in your hair. She was enjoying you, despite the impassive expression on her face.

“I take it…you’re her?” There was a voice, low and deep. Uncertainty as they hovered––likely not seeing what was happening.

“Yes,” she said. “Take a seat.” And then you heard the sound of shifting behind you as the person slid into the booth on the other side.

You went to pull away, only for the hand to tug you firmer, holding you in place, insistent in where you belonged. As your Lady wished, you returned your tongue to its rightful place, licking over her slick folds. As you gave long, languid stroke, her hand eased, no longer holding you still.

“I want to hire a hitman––against the Dubois family.”

“Business or personal?”

“Business, they stand to oppose my election.”

“Ah, I see. The entire family, or just Edward Dubois?” she asked. Her voice was steady as she asked, but you could feel her thigh muscles tensing and easing. Your own body was responding, your heart pounding with the excitement of what you were doing.

You kept your hands low on her thighs, digging your nails into the bare skin and watched as lips parted with the barest moan, unheard by anyone but you.

“I don’t care. Edward is all that matters. So as long as he goes down, that’s all that matters.”

“I see. Eight hundred thousand, then. Upfront.”

“ _Eight Hundred thousand?_ ” the person spluttered. “I was advised it’d be _three_ hundred thousand.”

“Yes, well, the Dubois family is well protected. It won’t be easy to get around those guards. Eight-hundred thousand.”

“This is absurd!”

“Then you can find someone else…but I promise you, no one will be more discreet than myself,” the Lady argued, as hand tugged at you again. The negotiation was about to start into an argument, and the Lady loved a good fight with a client––it allowed her to work them up before she entrapped them into her snare.

At her direction, you stroked firmer, your tongue slipping against her entrance, teasing over it, before you slid up and kissed at her clit, sucking on it as you heard the arguments rise above the table.

You didn’t care to listen to the discussion, instead, focusing your attention on the Lady, feeling her hand comb through your hair in a steady pace, leading you to what she wanted––and then the words stopped, and a silence pulled above.

Did he know?

You peered up from under the table, tongue still stroking broadly to see the Lady’s cheeks flushing red, even in the dim light of the bar. Her thighs were twitching, body inching closer.

“Or,” she said. Her voice low and hitched as she drew in a deep breath as you mouth parted over her clit, before you began to suck on it decadently, your tongue flicking purposefully over it. You could see her eyes flutter, both from you and from the pretence that she’d just come up with an idea. “Or perhaps I could be persuaded to…oh, how about four-hundred thousand under the guidance that _when_ you are elected, I will have a chip with your name on it, and shall I ever ask it of you, you shall do _whatever I ask_ , no questions asked.”

“Four-hundred thousand,” they echoed. “And a favour of your choosing?”

“Mm. Final offer.” She leant back against the booth, her eyes sharp on the person, lips twisted in a smirk, but you watched as a low exhale rose and fell in her chest. You drew away from her clit, returning to broad strokes as you flicked your tongue over the labia. Her cunt was spilling sweetly onto your tongue, and in a perfect setting, you’d be on your back, with her sitting on your face as she fucked your mouth.

“ _Agreed_ ,” the person spat. “When do you need the funds?”

“Two days at the latest, or the deal no longer stands.” You heard her gasp as her thighs squeezed around your head. Here, you were waiting, keeping to a set pace. You knew what she wanted, but she was in the middle of a negotiation.

A discussion broke over semantics, and then the person moved from their seat, pushing away, and you watched as the Lady watched them leave before a smile pulled over her features as she let her mask slip. “I think that went rather well, don’t you?”

Your grinned at her, and then slid two fingers inside of her, curling them as you return your attention to her clit. You watched her posture drop, the hand curling tighter again in your hair. And then, as you heard the sound of a fight break-out between occupants, a bottle smashing, as the wheels turned and dice rolled, she gave a small cry, drowned against the noise of the casino, as she squeezed around you.

And then her body dropped back, and you were pulling away.

The Lady laughed and then nodded with her head–-permitting your exit. Climbing out from under the table, you wiped your mouth with the back of your hand and felt your underwear slide against you as drew your eyes around the room.

One patron’s eyes looked at you, her eyes going wide before she looked away, finding her drink far more interesting, but other were either long-term patrons, used to your service to the Lady, or were too drunk to notice.

You stood up tall, and smoothed your clothes, watching as the Lady fixed her pants and then took a sip of her wine before smirking at you. She gave a tilt of her head, beckoning you closer, and you obeyed.

Then, with far less subtly than you’d granted her, she undid the button of your pants and slid her hand underneath the material of your underwear.

Her fingers drew down, prominently sliding over your clit, circling it twice so your knees threatened to give out, and then she was slipping down, across your entrance, teasing over it.

 _Here?_ You wanted to ask. She’d never done this before, never so open, and you watched her eyes stare at yours. She was daring you to argue, daring you to tell her it was too much. (But was it?) You bit your bottom lip, suppressing a whimper as you thought about how _good_ her fingers would feel buried inside of you.

And then she was drawing back up––pulling away.

It was bold, and you felt your body grow hot, watching as she lifted her fingers to her mouth and licked the arousal from them.

“Back to work,” she said, her voice low. However, there was a teasing lilt to it. “After all, I don’t pay you to stare.”

“Of course,” you agreed, hurriedly fixing your pants as you turned away. The room seemed quieter, the eyes all the more prominent on you. You tried to ignore them, but you heard a snicker before that faded too, and then slowly, the chatter returned to the room again.

You went over to your apron and picked it up, tying it around your waist before you ran off to the backroom to wash-up.

All the while, you could feel her eyes on you, a promise that at any time, she could fuck you in front of everyone as openly as she chose.

Knowing that you’d let her.

It shouldn’t thrill you as much as did, but as you washed your hands, you tried to ignore how wet your underwear was, and how empty your cunt felt.

And then you returned to work, feeling the knowledge sing through you. Anytime, anywhere, you were _hers_.


End file.
